


Caught, Caged.

by TheFlirtMeister



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Imprisonment, Light Angst, Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6786559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlirtMeister/pseuds/TheFlirtMeister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A King makes the right choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught, Caged.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heggsys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heggsys/gifts).



> Don't even ask what this is???

Wakanda is hotter than Sokovia by far. Zemo can feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck, staining the collar of the thick shirt that they have put him in. Zemo understands now why they're making him wear it, especially as he is now allowed to walk, accompanied, out in the grounds of the palace. It's to make him suffer.

They give him an old lady to be looked after by, who gives him a disproving glare when he is unceremoniously shoved in front of her, his handcuffs clinking against each other. T'Challa ordered the removal of the shackles around Zemo's ankles, but replaced them with handcuffs, which is no small comfort. T'Challa had watched as they were placed around Zemo's wrists, his face a perfect mask.

“No funny business, you hear me?” She tells him, and Zemo nods his head, because there's actually no point in trying to escape, in disarming this woman. He has no plan. He was meant to die on a mountainside, and T'Challa stopped that.

They walk around the grounds, slowly, because the old lady, whose name is Temi, cannot walk very fast. She huffs with every step, grumbling about being too old for this nonsense, and Zemo had wondered at first why T'Challa had ordered her to look after his prisoner. Then, whilst sitting in his prison cell and looking out of the window, he had watched her spar with some of the other palace guards out in the courtyard, and brought down every single one.

“You're an excellent fighter.” He tells Temi when he sees her next, and she grins, satisfied.

“Thank you.” She replies, and hobbles a little faster.

Zemo doesn't mind the slow walk though, the pace is pleasant, and he can study the palace architecture and plant life as they walk. Wakanda truly is fascinating, there are birds he has never seen, and bright plants he never could have dreamed about. His daughter loved all kinds of greenery, growing her own garden in their house in Sokovia.

Zemo can remember sitting at the kitchen window watching her plant seeds, kneeling on the soft ground so she ruined her trousers. Zemo had told her off for that, for getting herself dirty, and it pains him now, to think about telling her off. She didn't deserve to be chastised for simple pleasures.

“Don't talk much, do you?” Temi asks one day, peering at him curiously and Zemo shrugs.

“I have no need to.” He replies, and continues walking, careful not to trip over any tree roots and make a fool of himself.

It's a couple of weeks into Zemo's imprisonment when Zemo realises that he's being watched. He's following the path of a bright orange bird in flight, watching it swoop and dive in the air as Temi sits on a bench, catching her breath. The bird flies past the palace, and Zemo raises his hand over his eyes to block out the sun, and realises there is somebody at the window, staring back at him.

It's T'Challa, you couldn't mistake it for anyone else. He's not glaring, as Zemo would expect from the son of a man he murdered, but he doesn't look happy either. He's just simply there, watching Zemo who is watching him.

Zemo wishes he could raise a hand and wave at him, annoy him somehow, but his hands are still bound in front of him, so he can do nothing. Instead, he blinks slowly, like a cat, and T'Challa turns away from the window. Zemo smiles at that, and turns back to see if Temi is ready to carry on walking.

T'Challa comes to Zemo's cell that night, and Zemo is quite frankly, surprised. When T'Challa had unlocked the door to the room, pushing it open with more force that was needed, Zemo had quietly accepted that he had come to kill him. Nobody would mourn him, there was nobody _to_ mourn him. Nobody would come argue with a King either.

“I've been thinking,” T'Challa starts slowly, his voice soothing to Zemo's ears, despite the situation. T'Challa is obviously still worried Zemo might try something, so has attached Zemo's right arm to the wall. If Zemo tries to move, he will rip his arm right out of his socket, which is something that Zemo definitely does not want to happen. He doubts T'Challa would pay for his medical treatment after all. “About what you said.”

“I have said a lot of things.” Zemo replies, “You're going to have to be a little specific.”

T'Challa looks around the room, and then motions towards the bed. “May I sit?”

“Of course, your highness.”

T'Challa sits down, and does not rise to the bait that Zemo offers. “You had a father, and a wife, and a child.”

Zemo can taste sour in his mouth. “I did.” He says, perfectly clipped, “What of them?”

“Did you mourn?” T'Challa asks, and Zemo doesn't speak for a few seconds, searching back through his memories. With a jolt, he realises he didn't, not officially. He buried their bodies in unmarked graves, and then went looking for revenge.

“In my own way.” Zemo tells him, and T'Challa drums his fingers against his upper thighs.

“We are having a memorial celebration for my father.” He says, “I was wondering if you would like your family to be honoured in the celebrations.”

Zemo is stunned. So stunned in fact, he doesn't think before he speaks. “You would let the killer of a king- You would let his family be celebrated?” He blurts out, and then regrets his words.

“I would.” T'Challa replies. “They played no part in the death of my father, and I understand they mean a great deal to you.”

It's diplomatic, Zemo can give him that. He wants to refuse, just to be petty, to give himself some sick satisfaction at turning T'Challa down. But then he thinks of his father, cradling Zemo's wife and daughter in his arms, thinks of their rag doll bodies, and the way he'd screamed when he found them.

“Please.” He says, the words surprising himself, “I would like that.”

“Good.” T'Challa nods, and then stands. “I'm afraid my orchestra do not know the Sokovia National Anthem to play. Is there another piece of music you would like?”

Zemo is quiet before he speaks. “My daughter liked Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” He admits, “She used to sing it all the time.”

“I think that can be arranged.” T'Challa tells him, and Zemo doesn't know how to say his feelings, so he just settles for saying nothing at all.

 


End file.
